The Private Journals
by StarLightAtTheMoon
Summary: This fic digs a little into the journals of the people of Sivarsi Nine.. managed to get my hands on them after having searched under pillows and mattresses, Anton wasn't happy :P  ...Slash in later chapters
1. Steffan Kabala: June 21st

Okey, this is just what it sounds like... a sneak peak into the private journals of the people in the Masque of the Red Death world. I'm not following any chronological order, so this first chapter doesn't set the timeline, there will be chapters that take place both before and after and from the point of view of all the characters (that I can remember :P) ...Even Daryel.

Rating might be changed as this fic continues

And I'm very sure that there will be slash in future chapter, but then l'll let know

**Summary: This fic digs a little into the journals of the people of Sivarsi Nine.. managed to get my hands on them after having searched under pillows and mattresses ...Anton wasn't happy when he couldn't find his diary :P**

Disclaimer: Masque of the Red Death belong to Wendy Pini and none of it is mine (unless I make up some character, then that one is mine)

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><p><strong>From the Private Journal of Steffan Kabala<strong>

**June 21st**

And so I'm back. In the most humiliating, degrading, way.

I admit that I didn't think that I wouldn't see him again, seeing that I had stolen the formula for the attomons – the one thing he seemed to care about. I surely would have to face him sooner or later. But I hardly thought that it would be this soon, or in this fashion, that I would be dragged back to stand before him again.

If only I hadn't been in the office today… Well, then I would be in great peril because of the ever spreading Plague. But at least I wouldn't be feeling this way.

I sat out on the terrace, lost in the oddly beautiful summer night – odd because the stars were filling the sky and the air was as warm as ever and it seemed as if nothing had really happened, the nature going on unperturbed while the humans were slowly dying and leaving it behind. And it was all so very quiet.

Then suddenly the silence was broken by the chime coming from the door of my quarters. But I didn't get up, thinking that maybe it was Anton, coming to berate me for my deed, and I was not up for it right now.

The chiming stopped, and there was absolute silence for a while till it was heard once more. When still nobody came to let the person in, the faint sound of the door opening reach me. I sat still, more rigid now then just a minute ago, and I thought of how many there really was that had the authority to open the doors of the private quarters would they be locked.

"Steffan?" a low female voice called from inside. Bunchh. As much as I loved and otherwise would have appreciated her company, I just couldn't bring myself to give away that I was sitting out on the terrace, I just wasn't in a mood for her company that night – or for any company. "Steffan, darling, are you okay?"

She was looking at me, standing in the doorway, leaning her cheek again its, despite the warm weather, cool frame.

"No," I replied after a moment of looking anywhere but at her.

She came to sit down next to me, taking my right hand and held it tenderly in her blue ones. In the corner of my eye I could see her giving me a concerned look.

"I'm glad to see you again," she said, "though you don't seem to share in that joy."

"I see no reason for any happy feelings in being back," I replied tonelessly.

She sighed in the warm night.

"Your parting wasn't the best, but that doesn't mean that you cannot make it okay again."

Do I want to go back to where we were before I left?

"I don't think it can be okay again," I said before I could stop myself.

Bunchh turned to stare at me open-mouthed, obviously she hadn't seen it coming – for her the only real outcome was that Anton and I would make up and that everything would be okay.

"Why are you saying that?" she wondered.

"Because he has no trust for me left, assuming that there ever was." And neither have I, I don't trust myself when around him. "And he refuses over and over to show any human feelings, I can't be with someone like that. Can't be like that, not even to please him. It'll slowly destroy me and I'll begin to hate him."

I'd thought of that much lately, ever since he – in my opinion – went too far and I left the Island. It wasn't till then I saw clearly. I had no future with him, no matter what I or Bunchh or anybody else said. Though that didn't mean that I had fully accepted it, a part of me still yearned for him.

"I don't think it's that bad," she said, though I could make out the uncertainty in her voice.

This wasn't leading anywhere, no matter what I said to explain how I felt, she would come up with some way to smooth it over even if there was none, so I just let it go.

The rest of the night was spent talking about other things, and every time it seemed that it was getting back to the subject of Anton I carefully redirected it toward something… safer.

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><p><strong>Next up: Bunchh<strong>


	2. Bunchh: June 29th

**A/N: I have no experience of cutting myself or how long it takes before you die or how it feel to bleed to death, so if I got any of them wrong it was an honest mistake**

**Warnings: Character Death**

**Spoilers: Yes...**

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><p><strong>From the Private Journal of Bunchh<strong>

**June 29th**

You may have the best intensions in the world, but that still won't help if the people you're trying to help are either too stubborn or too blind to see it.

That's what I've realized lately, after seeing Anton and Steffan performing their own dance of death. It's gone so far that they won't listen to advice from others, least of all would they listen to each other.

For all this time I've shown a happy surface to others, but beneath that I was deeply miserable. It's painful to see them going about doing their dance and it seems that they'll go on till they reach the point of no return. I think that it would take something big to get their attention on what matters again.

I looked around in the room, it was full of red and pink colors and flowers – all things I love. By the bed stood an urn which now was holding pink roses and an assortment of other flowers, but it would later hold something else.

I went over to the closet and opened its doors and gazed upon the dress hanging in there. The dress was, except for the golden bodice, made from a thin flowing fabric – multiple layers in the skirt – in soft pink and white colors. I shrugged off the dressing gown I was wearing and took down the dress from its hanger, and then I donned it and watched my reflection in the mirror after I'd closed the doors again.

I'm really going to do this, I thought as I met my own gaze.

Dressed, and with the wide skirts billowing around my legs as I moved, I returned to sit by the vanity table. I picked up the necklace resting on the table and fastened it around my neck. Looking at my reflection again I decided that I was done accessorizing.

Calm, with the plan all worked out in my mind, I went over to sit on the bed. On the round table next to the bed sat a crystal decanter to the half full with brandy and next to it a glass, narrowed at its mouth and getting wider to form a full round by its base by the leg, also holding the amber liquid. I reached out and lifted the glass off the polished surface and brought it to my lips. Maybe it was because I wasn't good with alcohol, or possibly it was because of the amount I'd been drinking already, but drowsiness was creeping up on me. I put the glass back down and slowly heaved myself upon the bed leaning back at the many pillows piled at the headboard, feeling their softness cradle me.

I reached out my hands and gathered the flowers from the urn and after having held them to my face for a moment inhaling their sweet scent I spread my arms and the flowers landed to decorate the plentiful of skirts covering a great part of the bed. Then I reached for a sharp little knife resting on the table next to the glass and brought it to the soft blue skin of my wrist. I watched it break through and thick crimson leaked from the slit, and I placed my arm so that my hand was hanging over the edge of the bed and the blood that had begun to run down my arm to the hand was trickling down into the urn where the flowers had been sitting.

I picked up a recording device that was lying next to me on the bed, and after I'd activated it I began to dictate my message, my final words, to them I loved.

"Forgive this little deception, my prince. I didn't really want the attomons," I began. "I just needed to hear you say 'mortal'…" Hmm, didn't think the draining would take its toll this fast. Feeling dizzy… "… To know that I could – could still take care of myself… this way."

I sighed, feeling the end getting nearer for every second, though not evading it.

"Quite comfy, really…" I paused for a few seconds while I strained to stay conscious till I'd finished. "Drowsy. Must be the fifty-year-old brandy. Couldn't resist.

Now, Anton, don't you dare! I know what you're thinking! You leave my DNA alone!" After all, he _is_ a scientist with preservation in mind. "Remember, 'Nothing against another's will.' Don't bring me back… Please! I'm Hoob's handmaiden, now." I laughed, feeling lightheaded, though the sound came out ragged. "And from now on the dawns and sunsets… Will be something outrageous, don'tcha know!"

Increasingly hard to hang on to consciousness, and even my breath seemed to come hard and my voice was growing all the fainter, talking had got harder as well.

"Steffan, precious boy… Roses just keep coming… To arms already… Full of them. Fill your own arms… Find a way… I love you." My eyelids heavy, I took an as deep breath as I had strength to do and then continued. "And… You, too… My prince. Thanks for giving me so much to do. It was such… Fun… Wasn't it?

Everyone… Make love, tonight in the orange chamber… Make it a… Celebration of love! Don't be too disappointed in your Bunchh… For leaving so early. Such a long… Time… Before the world… Will want to laugh… and play again. When one's moment passed… Graceful exit… Only… Stylish… Option…"

Fumbling, I shut off the recording and my arm fell to lay limp across my belly and the device fell out of my hand onto the deep red bedspread. Heavy eyelids falling I took one last look at the room I was in - the red, the pink and the other colors I associated with happiness surrounding me – a faint smile gracing my lips and my consciousness slipping away.

XXXXXXXXX

Now, for you who may wonder; I didn't do this solely because I wanted them to wake up and straighten things out, but also because I was tired and wanted to move on to get some well needed rest.

… Farewell, darlings

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, this is obviously writen post-mortem, as it's pretty hard to write when dying(i'm guessing)... but imagine she's writing this sitting by Hoob's side :)**

**A/N 2: This was quite a hard piece to write, 'cause of the subject it was dealing with - suicide. But just because something's making you feel uncomfortable it doesn't mean that you should just ignore it**


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